


A Second Chance

by Scraplette



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Compliant, Friendship, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rodimus needs a hug, Sad Robots, So does Drift
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 14:15:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20949695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scraplette/pseuds/Scraplette
Summary: Rodimus spends another shore leave drinking the night away, that is until a familiar face steps through the door, then Rodimus is forced to face some harsh truths.Set after end of MTMTE/LL





	A Second Chance

**Author's Note:**

> Was originally a drabble that I've decided to build upon because my friend is a filthy enabler who adores these two just as much as me.

“Hey, Highball, did I ever tell you about the time the gang and I took on an army of Rust Giants?”

“Can't say I recall that one.”

Rodimus grinned, “Oh it's a good one. We were passing through Mauler Territory, just cruising around like you do.”

Highball nodded, politely. “Like you do.”

“Then we get this distress call from a nearby planet.” Rodimus pauses to take a swig from his glass, emptying it. He lines it up with the other glasses he's emptied over the evening just as Highball places a fresh drink in front of him. It shines brightly in the dim light of the empty bar, and Rodimus takes a second to admire the shifting swirl of colours before picking it up. He continues, “The small organic natives are fighting against an evil invading force. Well, we take one look at that situation and decided to step in.”

Highball picks up a dirty glass from the pile and sets about cleaning it. “That's awfully good of you,” she keeps her focus on her cleaning but Rodimus sees her small look of approval.

Rodimus beams up at the tall Lunarian, “Well, you know, it was the right thing to do,” he shrugs and looks down into his glass. He's suddenly feeling, well, not embarrassed but it's been a long time since Rodimus has heard anything approaching praise. The praise, little as it was, leaves him feeling off-kilter, he wants more of it, craves it, but there's something else there, something he doesn't want to put a name to.

He frowns as a cold sensation crawls along his frame. He's not sure he likes this feeling. Maybe he's had too much to drink tonight, or maybe not enough, he reasons as he takes a long swig from his drink. Afterall, can't feel anything if you drown it.

Highball, as if sensing his sudden dip in mood, looks up and smiles at him. It's a kind smile, one that strikes Rodimus as strangely familiar. “Go on,” she gently urges, “What happened next?”

Oh right! The story! He frown gives way to bright smile. “It was amazing. Magnus has this giant hammer that he's just swinging around! Like SWOOSH SWOOSH!” he flails his arm around, sloshing some of his drink onto the counter. “That thing was ridiculous. Almost as tall me.”

Highball wipes a clean rag across the spill. “That seems a bit much.”

“Yeah, it really ways,” he chuckles, fondly. “Anyway, the best part was when their leader shows up. Well, I assume it was the leader, it was the biggest and ugliest of the bunch,” he laughs, recalling what came next. ”Big ugly wasn't prepared for Tailgate.”

Highball's eyebrows, a trait common among so many of the Lunarians, shoot up in surprise.“The blue minibot?”

Rodimus smiles and nods, he’s pleased that Highball remembers Tailgate from his other stories. “Yeah, he was a little powerhouse back then. He took that Rust Giant down in one punch.” he jabs one fist forward, sharp and quick “Power punch!” he shouts in his best imitation of Tailgate's high-pitched voice. Highball gawks at him, dumbfounded, and Rodimus can't hold back the giggles that escaped his mouth.

His giggles subside and he lowers his head to rest atop his folded arms, letting his optics slip shut.“They were the best,” he mummers, slurring his words only a little. He feels light, if he's not careful he might drift away. That actually doesn't seem like a bad thing, he thinks. No responsibilities. No worries. With nothing holding him back he'd be free to go wherever, he could float through the universe on the ultimate adventure.

He's so caught up in his thoughts that he barely registers the soft hiss of the main door opening. It's only when Highball greets the new customer that he even spares them any of his attention.

“Welcome to the Chrome Bucket!” she says, brightly. “I'm sorry. All weapons need to be left at the door”

“Very well.”

That familiar voice cut through the fuzz of Rodimus' mind with the same precision and skill it's owner was famous for. He shoots up, and fixes his wide eyes on the doorway and the bot standing there.

It's Drift. He looks different from the last time he saw him at Ratchet's funeral all those months ago. He's ditched the cape but the traditional mourning tattoos still adorn his body, and probably will for years to come. He recalls the last thing he'd said to Drift that same day, a promise to stay in touch.

The shame boils along his energon lines and his tanks churn. He stares into his half empty glass because anything, absolutely anything, in this moment is better than looking at Drift. He doesn't even raise his head when he hears him approach the bar.

“You made it just in time for last call. What can I get you?” Highball asks, either unaware or uncaring of the potentially awkward situation unfolding before her.

Drift takes the seat next to Rodimus, “Just a quart of engex, please.” He still hasn't acknowledged Rodimus, and the speedster isn't sure how to deal with that. He almost wishes Drift had come into the bar, screaming and shouting with swords in hand, that would've been better than this cool indifference. He's familiar with anger, knows how to withstand it's harsh blaze before it burns itself out. The light, fuzzy, feeling from before is gone. Now, Rodimus feels raw and exposed.

He steals a glance at the bot beside him and freezes when his gaze is met with soft, calming blue. Drift's stance is relaxed, with his hands resting on the bar besides the drink he's just ordered. He's looking at him expectantly.

“Hey, Drift,” he says, carefully.

“Hello, Rodimus.”

Okay, so far so good. “How'd you find me?”

Drift picked up his drink and swirled its contents around and around. “I attuned myself to the unique resonance of your aura. After that, all I had to do was follow the fluctuations in the air,” he took a delicate sip of his drink.

Rodimus blinked.“What. Really?”

“No. Thunderclash contacted me. He said there was a chance you'd be in this bar tonight.”

“Oh... But you totally could've done that aura thing, right? If you had to.”

“Of course,” finally, Drift smiles, and oh if that didn't make Rodimus' spark ache. He'd missed that smile. How many years has it been since he'd seen it? Probably too many to count, which was a depressing thought. Either way, the smile eases his nerves somewhat.

He raises his glass and returns Drift's smile with a winning one of his own. Rodimus is meant to be easygoing and confident, always the bright centre of any room. It's easy to slip into the role he's so well-known for. “Well, since you're here we might as well enjoy a drink together.” It's a drink between two friends, nothing more. He can do this. 

“Why did I have to hear you were on leave from Thunderclash?” Drift asks in a cool, even tone. 

Okay, maybe not just a simple drink. Panic rises in Rodimus' spark but the mask stays in place. He flaps a dismissive hand at Drift as he rolls his optics. “Pfft, you know how it is. It was short notice, and I didn't want to impose-”

“And the other times?”

He falters. “Pardon?”

Drift pushes his glass to the side and turns to fully face Rodimus. “This isn't the first time you've had leave on New Cybertron. Not once did you reach out to Ratchet or me, or any of the others. Why?” 

Drift stares Rodimus in the eye and the red bot forces himself to meet that gaze. It was always a gamble, to match Drift look for look, his friend had a gift when it came to reading a person and their intentions. Rodimus wasn't sure if he really was reading an aura, or if he was just skilled at reading body language, but he was rarely wrong. This time, he needed Drift to fail, to see that everything was okay.

“Drift...”

“What happened to keeping in contact? You promised me!” Drift hisses, slamming his fist onto the counter, jostling their drinks. Rodimus is shocked by the outburst. He's used to the other bot being the calm one. Drift only really lashed out when he was really upset. On instinct, he reaches out for Drift's shoulder, like he's done a million times, to offer comfort and support. But the hurt in his friend's optics gives him pause.

A quiet 'ahem' draws the attention of the pair. Highball shakes her head and points towards the door,“Sorry, Rodimus. If you're going to fight, verbal or otherwise, I'm gonna have to ask you two to step outside.”

Rodimus' grip on his drink tightens, he swears he can hear the glass creak under the pressure, but eventually his sighs and relents. He stands up carefully, with only a slight tremble in his limbs. “Yeah, fine, whatever.” 

Drift bows his head to Highball. “I'm sorry for causing trouble. Let me cover the bill.”

“You don't have to do that,” Rodimus protests.

“Let me. Then we can finish up our conversation.” Drift's firm tone leaves no room for argument. Right now, it feels wrong to refuse Drift anything.

He says his goodbyes to Highball whilst Drift reclaims his blades from the weapon rack. He tries to apologise but she waves it off with a cheery,“Don't worry about it,” before wishing the pair a good night as they step outside. Rodimus knows of a small public park nearby, known for its crystal formations. It seems as good a destination as any and Drift seems fine with Rodimus' leading the way.

It's late so they encounter few people as they walk down the street. Not a word is spoken between them the entire time. Silence with Drift has never left him so on edge before, usually it feels safe, comforting. But now... He's been dreading this talk but Rodimus thinks he hates the silence more. 

Before long they've reached the park. It's just as Rodimus remembers. Nothing as grand as the Primal Gardens at the old Citadel but certainly a pleasant place for a couple to waste a few hours. The crystals look especially lovely at night. Scattered around various points around the park, the soft glow they emit covers nearly the entire park with a pale violet light. 

Rodimus throws himself onto the nearest bench and breathes deep of the night air. It does a decent job of clearing his mind but before he can gather his thoughts, Drift is already there, standing in front of him.

“Go on then.”

Rodimus laughs, it sounds as hollow as he feels. “Wow, were you always this direct? I think Ratchet must have rubbed off on you a bit” he winces, hissing softly. “I'm sorry, that was low.” What’s wrong with him? Why did he say that?

“It was, but you're not wrong.” Drift sits beside him on the bench,“I've floated around this long enough. Why were you in a bar of all places? 

He's out in the open with nothing but night sky above him but Rodimus still feels trapped. “I just wanted a drink, Drift. Drop it.”

Drift shakes his head. “I won't. In the past, I let you get away with too much. Not this time, Rodimus. We deserve answers.”

“We?”

“Me, Magnus, everyone. People drift away, it happens, but with you it's different. It feels like you're pushing us away. Thunderclash reached out to me. He says you're showing up to shift exhausted with the smell of engex on your breath. You barely interact with the Exitus crew and when you do he says it's like you're not really there, you're just going through the motions. He's worried.” suddenly, he leans over and takes Rodimus' hand in his own. “I'm worried.” He suddenly looks so sad and defeated. It's so wrong, Drift should never look like. 

That single expression does more to tear down his barriers than anything else said or done that night. “I didn't want to bother you,” he whispers, so softly. 

“Rodimus, I mean it-”

“It's the truth!” he tears his hand free of Drift's, and surges to his feet. “Primus, just, after the whole thing with the Functionists everyone wanted to settle down and live a quiet life. And, that was fine. You all deserved it! But for me, that life terrifies me, I needed to get back out there, you know? To seek out the next big adventure.” he's pacing back and forth now, his fists clenching and opening at his sides. “And I did!” he continues, “One mission after another. But none of them ever felt right.” he suddenly stops at stares at Drift, silently begging him to meet his gaze, because he needs so dearly for his friend to understand the words he can't convey. “I couldn't drag you back into that life, not for my sake.”

“So, cutting off all contact is somehow better. We needed you, Rodimus! I needed you.” The last part is said so softly but it hits Rodimus with all the force of a Titan. He’s left shaken down to his very spark.

Oh Primus, he's been a fragging idiot.

He'd convinced himself that by keeping his distance he was doing his friends a favour, that without him around they could move on with their lives. Yet before him was living proof of how utterly wrong he was. 

Rodimus should've been there for Drift when Ratchet was entering his final days, he should've been there to hear one last snarl from Ratchet. He'd wasted so much time chasing down some pipe dream that he'd missed out on what precious little time Ratchet had left. By the Pit, he hadn't even made it to the funeral on time.

How many of his other friends had he let down over the centuries. 

He needed to fix this, and the first step was a small but simple one. He returns to the bench, sitting close enough to bump shoulders with Drift. “How are you holding up?”

Drift fixes him with a sharp gaze. He thinks Drift is going to hit him which Rodimus thinks is more than deserved. Eventually, Drift replies. “It's not the first time I've lost someone I love.”

“That doesn't make it any easier though, does it?”

Drift's tenses, his plating snapping tight against his frame. “No, it doesn't,” There's a slight tremor in his voice, “I swear, Rodimus, some mornings I wake up and reach out for him, like I did every day, but he's not there, and then I remember and-” he chokes back a sob and, this time, Rodimus doesn't hesitate as he reaches for his friend, pulling him into a tight, desperate, embrace.

He feels Drift stiffen within his arms and for one horrifying moment he thinks Drift is going to pull away, but then he grips him back just as tight, just as desperate. They hold each other like that for a while, sharing their pain and grief. 

Rodimus buries his face against Drift's neck. “I'm sorry, Drift” he breathes, “I'm so sorry.” he pulls away, just far enough to see his friend's face. “I want to help. Tell me how I can make it right.”

“Stay.”

“Sure thing. My leave ends tomorrow but-”

Drift pulls away and Rodimus chases after him. With a smile, Drift lets Rodimus clasp their hands together, interlocking their fingers.“No, that isn't what I meant.” 

“I'm sorry. I'm completely lost here.”

Drift gives their hands a quick, comforting squeeze.“I was serious when Thunderclash said he was worried. Despite what you think he's also your friend, and he wants you to get help. He's agreed to sign you off on medical leave. You can stay with me whilst you get treatment.”

“He wants to get rid of me?” Panic flares up in Rodimus’ spark, bright and sharp. He can’t lose his post! The thought of not being able to explore to stairs, to be chained to one spot, didn’t even bear thinking about.

Drift gives his hand another squeeze, “He can see you're struggling and he wants to help. He'll only sign off on the leave if you agree to it. Please, Rodimus.” 

Rodimus' stares at Drift, he’s at a complete loss for words. For the first time in centuries it feels like there's light ahead, but it almost seems too good to be true. There had to be a catch, right? “You've got more important things to worry about than me.”

Drift leans forward and presses his helm against Rodimus'. The gentle pressure almost brings Rodimus to tears. He's missed the easy intimacy he and Drift used to share. He's beginning to wonder why he denied himself this simple joy for so long. Drift smiles again and Rodimus loses himself in the glow of his optics. “I'll decide what's worth my time, and I think my best friend is more than worth it.”

He’s starting to tremble, overcome by emotions he doesn’t know how to deal with. He clings to onto Drift’s fingers because, right now, they’re the only thing keeping him from completely falling apart. “I don't deserve this...” he gasps. It's true, he really doesn't. He doesn't feel worthy of Drift's trust, but he wants to be.

It's as if Drift's reading his thoughts. “Then earn it.” The other bot tugs one of his hands free, and then Rodimus can feel a warm solid weight on the back of his neck, holding him in place.”Please, stay with me, get better, then return to the stars where you belong.”

“On one condition.

“Anything.”

“I can come back to you.”

“Always.” Drift grins, and it might be the most dazzling thing Rodimus has seen in his long, long life. The light of the Matrix doesn't even compare.

So many different thoughts spiral through Rodimus' mind but only one word makes it to his mouth. He smiles, sad but painfully genuine. “Cool.”


End file.
